Knitting Socks
by Lindelea1
Summary: Pippin aquires a pony shortly before setting out on the Quest
1. Cast On Stitches

Note: Thanks to Jo's excellent example of an Overlithe Fair, couldn't have written my own description without first having read hers.  
  
Chapter 1. Cast On Stitches  
  
Mid-year Day Fair, S.R. 1418  
  
Peregrin Took stood at the edge of the crowd waiting for the start of the first heat in the annual pony races at Michel Delving. He absently fingered the gold pieces in his pocket as he watched the scene before him.  
  
Ponies milled about on the green, their riders' bright shirts contrasting with their shining coats of black, bay, chestnut, gold, and silver. Music sounded in the background, along with all the other sounds of the Fair, laughter, excited children, scolding mothers. Tantalizing food smells wafted through the air, but Pippin had just eaten heartily and the smells were no more to him than a promise of good things to come.  
  
'Hullo, Pippin, not racing today?' came his cousin Frodo's voice behind him. '...or are you entered in a later heat?' Pippin turned to meet his cousin's quizzical gaze. 'No,' Frodo went on, thinking aloud, 'You'd be warming up Blaze... where is Blaze?' he asked, his gaze sharpening.  
  
Pippin's eyes threatened to spill over and he turned away to dab surreptitiously at his face. 'Sun's so bright today,' he mumbled. 'Excuse me, Frodo, I seem to have caught a speck of dust in my eye.'  
  
Frodo nodded, saying thoughtfully, 'There's plenty of it about.'  
  
Ponies churned and danced before them as their riders tried to maneuver them into a straight line. Silken tails caught the breeze, ribbons fluttered from manes, heads arched proudly. The crowd cheered their favourites in a pleasing confusion of names. Laughter sounded as one rider lost his stirrups and had to grab the neck of his pony to keep from slipping off. Two other ponies began to face off, whistling challenges, and the starter's assistants had a time of it separating the two and moving them to opposite ends of the line. The crowd roared their approval.  
  
Pippin heard his cousin beside him sigh. 'I wonder if I shall ever see another Mid-year's Day pony race?' Frodo muttered under his breath. Pippin pretended not to hear. Frodo had been acting awfully peculiar since Spring, wandering more than usual as if saying farewell to all his old haunts. His cousins had had quite a time trying to keep tabs on him.  
  
The young Took wondered if Frodo would ever trust his cousins enough to share his burden with them, or if he would simply disappear one day, despite all of Merry's scheming, the way old Bilbo had seventeen years earlier. Pippin had been quite young at the time, but he still remembered the fireworks and the excitement of the Party. He cast a sidelong glance at his cousin. Frodo's face was sober, as it was all too often these days, but Pippin had confidence in Merry. Merry would see to it that Frodo didn't slip out of his cousins' watchful net quite so easily.  
  
Frodo was fingering something in his pocket; Pippin had a pretty good idea what it was. Pippin's hand cupped the gold coins in his own pocket.  
  
The Thain had been unusually observant--perhaps that was not quite the right term. Pippin's father was extremely observant when it came to shortcomings or oversights on the part of his son and heir, after all.  
  
But he had looked up sharply when Pippin came to take his leave on the way to the Mid-year Fair at Michel Delving.  
  
'What're you so mopey about?' he demanded irritably of his son. 'I haven't heard two words together out of you for days.'  
  
'I came to bid you farewell, Father. D'you want anything from the Fair?'  
  
The Thain snorted. 'No use spending good coin on bad trash; we've all we need here in the Great Smials.' He looked piercingly at his son. 'You still fretting over that pony? Like as not, 'twas your own neglect killed it.'  
  
Pippin didn't answer, waiting patiently for his father's dismissal. He knew better than to show the misery he felt.  
  
The Thain jerked open one of the drawers in his intricately carved desk, fishing out several gold coins. He shoved them across the desktop. 'Here,' he said abruptly. 'Go buy yourself another pony at the Fair.' He snorted as Pippin silently picked up the coins. 'And try not to kill this one, will you?'  
  
Pippin put the coins in a pocket and stood again at attention, waiting for his father to dismiss him. The Took looked back down at the figures he was writing. After a few moments he looked back up. 'Are you still here?' he barked. 'Out! Don't let me see your face around here again until that waste of time they call a Fair is over.'  
  
'Yes, Sir,' Pippin replied and marched out.  
  
A shout from Frodo brought his thoughts back to the present. 'Merry!' Frodo was calling and waving. 'Over here!'  
  
Pippin saw Merry, on his bright chestnut pony, look up and smile, then move closer to them.  
  
'So what does Bright Nose have to say about this race, Merry?' Frodo called.  
  
Merry laughed. 'He's not saying much!' He patted the shining neck. 'My Bright is a doer, not a talker.'  
  
'Well tell him to do his best, I've a wager on with Sam,' Frodo laughed.  
  
Merry looked down at Pippin compassionately. 'Sorry to hear about Blaze,' he said softly. 'Colic could happen to anyone, Pippin. It wasn't your fault.'  
  
Pippin looked to the ground and swallowed hard. When he looked up again, Merry and Bright had moved away, and Merry was skillfully guiding his pony into the lineup. Though Bright pranced beneath him, Merry sat deep in the saddle, still as a stone, hands apparently fixed though the pony settled down and obediently moved into place.  
  
'I wish I could ride like that,' Pippin murmured.  
  
Frodo smiled at him. 'Keep working at it,' he said kindly, 'and you will, someday.'  
  
Pippin shook his head. 'I think Merry is part pony.'  
  
Frodo's eyes danced with mischief. 'Which part?'  
  
Pippin didn't return his smile, but continued in a surprisingly sober vein. 'My father wishes I did, too,' he said. Frodo didn't follow him for a minute, but he continued in a flawless imitation of the Thain. 'Why can't you ride like your cousin Meriadoc? Why can't you sing like your cousin Meriadoc? Why can't you be more like...'  
  
Frodo broke in. 'I'm surprised you don't hate him,' he said quietly.  
  
Pippin looked up and laughed in astonishment. 'Hate him?' he said, then shook his head and said more softly. 'No, I'd like to be just like him someday.'  
  
Frodo clapped him on the shoulder. 'You just try to keep on being the best Peregrin Took you can,' he said gently. 'There's not room in the world for two Merrys or two Pippins, for that matter, but one of each seems just about perfect.'  
  
A commotion at the starting line arrested their attention. Most of the ponies had lined up and were awaiting the start. One pony was holding up the race, a young smoke coloured pony with a surly hobbit about Pippin's age on his back. This pony was plunging and dancing, refusing to stay on line. Two starter's assistants grasped either side of the bridle to try to force him into line.  
  
'What do you think of the grey's chances?' Frodo asked in Pippin's ear. 'He looks fast, and eager to run.'  
  
'He might be,' Pippin agreed, 'but he's got too much white showing in his eyes. I don't think much of his rider.' Frodo looked again to see that Pippin had the right of it.  
  
Finally the ponies were all lined up, ready to go, and the crowd fell relatively quiet in anticipation. The starter's voice boomed out as he raised an arm high. 'Ready!' Pippin saw Merry sit deeper in the saddle and flex his hands slightly. Bright seemed to crouch as a cat about to spring.  
  
Suddenly, though the starter had not yet dropped his arm, several ponies broke from the line, led by the nervous dapple grey.  
  
'False start!' the starter bellowed. 'Ponies return to the line! Regentine Bracegirdle on 'Smoke' is disqualified!'  
  
'I guess we'll never know, now, how fast he is,' Frodo murmured, but Pippin's attention was fixed on the angry rider who was now having a serious disagreement with his mount, jerking the reins and beating the poor beast when it threw up its head. Bloody foam dripped from its mouth and the whites of its eyes rolled further as it frantically tried to get away from the beating.  
  
There was a murmur of disapproval from the crowd, but Pippin was vaulting the fence and running up to grab the grey's reins.  
  
'Get down!' he said fiercely. 'Get off his back before I knock you off!'  
  
The rider brought his whip down to slash at Pippin but the blow never connected as the young Took's quicker hand grabbed the crop and pulled hard, catapulting the other from his saddle.  
  
The starter and his assistants stepped up, ready to help, but Pippin was doing fine. He stared down at the sprawled rider. 'You hit him again,' he said through his teeth, 'and I'll take your own whip to you.'  
  
'You can't do that!' the other panted.  
  
'Watch me,' Pippin said, unperturbed. The unseated rider looked to the starter but found no help there, and his glance at the crowd showed him only grim disapproval. He waited, breathing hard.  
  
'What do you want for the pony?' Pippin asked quietly, his words dropping into the silence like pebbles in a well.  
  
'He's not worth a silver penny!' the rider said hotly. 'Worthless piece of dog meat!'  
  
Pippin reached into his pocket, bringing out a handful of coins. He fished out a silver penny and threw it into the dust. 'There's your price,' he said flatly. He picked up three gold coins and dropped them beside the penny. 'And here's something for your trouble. Now you can't say you were cheated.'  
  
'I'm not selling him!' the other hissed.  
  
The starter stepped forward. 'I'd say you just did, lad,' he said grimly. He met Pippin's eye. 'You can call on me for a witness if need be.' The starter looked back at the rider who still sat in the dust. 'You've no call for grievance, he paid you twicet what the pony's worth.'  
  
Pippin took the grey pony's reins from the assistants who had jumped to grab the pony when his rider was unseated. 'Thank you,' he said. He looked at the rolling eye, lathered neck, blood flecked mouth, and slowly held out his hand.  
  
'Easy, lad,' he crooned. 'Steady now.' The pony half reared but Pippin didn't try to pull him down, merely let the reins slip through his fingers until the pony resumed four feet again.  
  
He continued to stand motionless, crooning to the frightened beast, until it stood quiet, trembling violently. The crowd watched in silence, wondering what he'd do next.  
  
Pippin surprised them. Instead of tugging at the reins to lead the pony away, he placed a hand high on its neck to urge the pony to walk with him. 'Come lad,' he encouraged. 'Come along then. You'll race another day.'  
  
Frodo watched in astonishment as the pony meekly followed his cousin from the field, then met Merry's bright grin. The unseated rider scrambled in the dust for the coins and stalked away.  
  
The starter raised his hands and his voice. 'Right, then! We have a race to run here!' He and his assistants moved back to opposite ends of the waiting line of ponies. He raised his arm again. 'Ready!' 


	2. Knit Across Row

Chapter 2. Knit Across Row  
  
Samwise Gamgee came up to Pippin as he led the pony away. 'I see you've found yourself another pony,' he said quietly.  
  
Pippin gave a start. 'O I'm sorry, Sam, I completely forgot I was supposed to be watching Frodo.'  
  
'I don't think he'll up and disappear in the midst of a pony race,' Sam said easily.  
  
'Merry seems to think so,' Pippin replied.  
  
'Mr Merry worries just a little too much, to my thinking,' Sam said quietly. 'Mr Frodo is restless, sure, but not enough to leave.' He regarded Pippin soberly. 'Not yet.'  
  
'I hope you're right or Merry will have my hide,' Pippin joked.  
  
'Well he can have mine right alongside yours, then,' Sam said.  
  
'Sam,' Pippin said suddenly, 'D'you have a piece of rope I could borrow?'  
  
Samwise nodded. 'Of course,' he said. 'I always try to keep a bit of rope handy. Never know when you might need it.' They were well away from the crowd now, and the pony had stopped trembling. 'You wait here,' Sam said. 'I'll be back in a minute.' He jogged away, and Pippin stopped, stroking the soft neck, speaking soothingly to the smoke coloured pony.  
  
Sam was back in a little more than a minute, a coil of rope over his shoulder. 'How much of it do you need?' he asked.  
  
'O I'd hate to cut it,' Pippin said. 'If you let me borrow the whole, you can have it again when we get back to Bag End.'  
  
'Plenty more where that came from,' Sam said easily. 'You can have it.'  
  
'Did you twist it yourself, Sam?' Pippin asked. Perhaps the rope might have some quality about it that would transfer some of the calm of its maker to the pony that would soon be wearing it.  
  
Pippin formed a loop, held it up for the pony to see, rubbed hand and rope gently on the lathered neck. 'See,' he crooned, 'just a rope. Nothing to hurt my fine lad.' He continued to croon and caress until the pony's renewed trembling had eased. 'There's the lad,' he praised. He eased the loop over the pony's head, then held the end out to Sam. 'Hold him, will you?'  
  
Sam took the rope, waiting to see what Mr Pippin would do next. What he did was reach up slowly, releasing the throat latch, easing the bridle with its wicked looking bit down and off.  
  
Pippin wished he could have flung the tortuous gear violently away, but that would have frightened the pony again, so he contented himself with dropping it on the ground. Nudging at the sharp-edged bit with a toe, he said, 'Sam, you can use that thing to dig in your garden, or you can throw it on the ash heap for me; I won't be needing it.' He took the rope back from Sam. 'Thanks. I'll see you back at Bag End.'  
  
Sam was dumbfounded. 'Are you going to walk there now?' He had driven Mr Frodo over to the Fair in a wagon, all of fifty miles.  
  
'O aye,' Pippin smiled. 'It's a beautiful day for a walk. We'll see you when Fair's over.' Turning away, he led the pony to the road that led towards Hobbiton.  
  
They ambled along in the sunshine, stopping occasionally when they came across some especially luscious grass so that the pony could graze. When Pippin started feeling hunger he took an apple from his pocket, ate about half as they walked along, gave the remainder to the pony.  
  
When the road crossed a brook, he led the pony down the bank and into the stream. The two cooled their feet whilst the pony drank of the clear water. 'There's a lad,' Pippin said. 'Had your fill, yet?' They climbed the grassy bank on the other side and resumed their stroll.  
  
As the Sun was westering behind them, he saw smoke rising from a chimney and turned off the road to approach a farmstead. The farmer's wife came out, wiping her hands on her apron, and Pippin greeted her politely. 'Would you have bed and board for two weary travellers?' he asked with a smile.  
  
She returned his smile, saying, 'We're just about to sit down to supper. Put your pony in the barn, there's an empty stall, and help yourself to oats and hay.'  
  
'No, thank you kindly, I'll let him have the oats and hay and share your supper, if I may,' Pippin said with a charming smile.  
  
The farmer's wife laughed, saying, 'Welcome to it! You can wash up at the side with my lads.' Pippin thanked her and went to put the pony away.  
  
There was a fine supper, and then they loaned him a blanket to lay upon the hay in the barn for a sleeping place. He borrowed comb, brush and cloth from the farmer and spent a long time rubbing the pony's coat, crooning songs and soothing words. He noted that the pony had not touched oats nor hay, and went to ask the farmer, 'D'you mind if I make up a hot mash for the lad? He has a sore mouth, I'm sorry to say.' The farmer provided all that was needed, Pippin made up the pony's meal and stroked the soft neck while it was eaten. When he bid the beast good night, it turned a wondering dark eye upon him and he chuckled low in his throat. 'This is the way life is supposed to be, lad. You forget all about that other. It was just a bad dream.'  
  
He sought his bed on the hay and lay for a long time listening to the pony's steady breathing, wondering what his father would say. He'd paid enough for a well trained pony, and here he was with a frightened, half broke beast, useless for riding or any work, really, unless he first invested much patience and time retraining. Ah, well. His bed was made and he might as well lie in it. 


	3. Dropped Stitch

Chapter 3. Dropped Stitch  
  
Pippin stood straight, keeping his face blank and attentive, while he waited for the flow of bitter words to stop. His father seemed to be winding down at last. '...ride back in the wagon with your cousins, but no, you decide, empty headed as usual, to *walk* back from the Fair, so of course you'd need lodging along the way. You ought to have slept in a hedgerow, teach you a lesson, wasting good coin so...'  
  
A touch on his shoulder awakened him, and he looked up to see the farmer's smile. 'Sun's up out of her bed, lad,' he said good naturedly, 'your pony's had his breakfast already, and ours is waiting.'  
  
'Thank you,' Pippin said, rising to brush some stray hay from his clothes. He felt in his pocket, relieved that he hadn't lost any of the coins his father had given him, for he would have to account for each one, and held out two silver pennies. 'For your trouble,' he said.  
  
The farmer waved them away. 'Nay, lad, no need. What's a bit of food and a blanket?' He smiled and turned away, leaving Pippin still standing stupidly with his hand out. 'Use your coins to buy a bridle,' he called over his shoulder. 'Don't let breakfast go cold, now.'  
  
'Right!' Pippin shoved the coins back into his pocket, jogged to catch up with the farmer, took his turn to splash head and hands quickly with the cold water from the bucket by the door, and joined the family for a hearty breakfast.  
  
The banter between the farmer and his sons reminded Pippin of Brandy Hall, and he smiled and soon had his own jokes to add to the conversation. He'd give all of Tookland and the promise of being Thain someday to trade lots with one of these farm lads. But then, he wouldn't wish his father on anyone.  
  
After breakfast, he groomed the grey pony and saddled him. As he was easing the loop of Sam's rope over the pony's head, to lead him out of the yard, the farmer stopped him.  
  
'How far are you going?'  
  
'Only to Hobbiton. An easy day's journey,' he replied.  
  
'A good thirty miles,' the farmer replied. 'Wouldn't it be easier to ride than walk?'  
  
'Even if I had a bridle, I wouldn't use it. This poor lad's mouth needs time to heal yet.'  
  
The farmer nodded, 'Aye, I saw that. Seems you bought him out of a bad situation.' He raised his voice and rubbed the pony's chin, addressing his next words to the beast. 'Ah, lad, but I'd say things are looking up! You take good care of this two-footed lad, he'll take good care of you.'  
  
The pony nodded, and Pippin laughed. 'Looks like he'd like an apple.'  
  
'Nay, he's a bright lad,' the farmer maintained. 'Understands every word we say.' He held out his hand for the rope. 'Here, let me show you a trick I learned when I was your age.'  
  
He moved the loop around the pony's neck up until it rested just behind ears and lower jaw, then brought the loose end of the rope forward, looping it again, gently, around the nose, tying a knot at the bottom, bringing the free end around and tying it again to make a rough bridle with reins but no bit.  
  
'There, you can rest his mouth but still ride him,' the farmer said. 'Let's give it a try.'  
  
Pippin spoke softly to the pony, eased himself into the saddle. The ears went back and the eyes rolled white. The farmer kept hold of the rope reins near the pony's chin, stroking and soothing until the ears came up again. He looked up at Pippin. 'Talk to him, lad, let him know it's you on his back.'  
  
Pippin spoke, and the pony looked around, gentle astonishment in its soft eyes. O it's you! the pony seemed to say.  
  
The farmer's wife came out with a bag in hand. 'Here,' she said, handing it up to Pippin, 'a bit of dinner for the journey.' He thanked her, and she said with a twinkle in her eye, 'You're welcome any time, lad.'  
  
The family waved as he rode the grey pony out of the yard. The pony responded well to leg and rein. Perhaps he wasn't so ill trained after all.  
  
***  
  
Pippin had a cold supper laid out by the time he heard the wagon roll up. He heard Sam calling good night, and his cousins' voices answering, then Merry said he'd see Frodo inside after he put his pony away.  
  
Frodo stopped in surprise to see Pippin. 'Hello, cousin!' he said. 'I didn't expect to see you here, yet. We looked for you along the road, Sam said you were walking home.'  
  
'Why walk when you can ride?' Pippin said gaily.  
  
'How is the new pony working out?' Frodo asked.  
  
'We're great friends,' Pippin said, 'Practically on a first name basis already.'  
  
'What's his name?'  
  
'I haven't thought of one yet, that's why I said "practically",' Pippin said reasonably.  
  
They chatted a bit about the Fair until Merry came in. 'Nice pony you've got there,' he said to Pippin. 'I think you got a bargain after all.'  
  
'Thanks,' Pippin said. They sat down to eat. Pippin had determined to tease Merry by not asking who had won the pony race.  
  
They talked and laughed through the meal, and then Frodo turned to Pippin. 'Would your father let you stay through the end of the month?' he asked.  
  
'He won't care, as long as you ask him properly,' Pippin said off-handedly.  
  
Frodo smiled. 'Then I shall send an invitation off in the morning,' he said. Sobering, he added, 'This might be one of your last visits to Bag End, after all.'  
  
Pippin stared. 'Why, what have I done now?' he asked.  
  
Frodo laughed and reached out to tousle his hair as if he were much younger. 'Nothing, cousin.' He sat back, gazing from Pippin to Merry. 'I've just decided to sell Bag End, is all,' he said, trying for a casual tone. 'Merry's going to help me find a house in Buckland, a small one that's within my means.'  
  
'Within your means?' Pippin asked, astonished.  
  
'Yes, Pippin. I'm afraid I've come to the end of Bilbo's money,' Frodo answered.  
  
'When?' Pippin asked.  
  
'O, the Sackville-Bagginses have indicated they would be happy to take Bag End off my hands anytime,' Frodo said easily. 'All I need to do is find a house to move into...' Pippin realized his mouth was hanging open and he managed to close it. 'I'll probably move in the autumn. Pippin, are you all right?' he asked kindly.  
  
'Fine, fine,' Pippin mumbled, seeking Merry's eye. Merry shook his head ever so slightly, and Pippin subsided, holding in all the many questions he was aching to ask. 


	4. Knit Two Together

4. Knit Two Together  
  
Pippin's visit to Bag End had stretched through the end of July, for which he was very grateful to his cousin Frodo. Every time a demand for Pippin's return arrived, Frodo would turn around and send a smoothly worded plea back to the Great Smials, to the effect that Pippin's help in preparing for the move was invaluable, and could the Thain please spare his son for another week or so?  
  
Pippin wondered if Frodo thought this was his last gift to him, this time away from his father, before leaving, and laughed within himself. 'You won't find it quite *that* easy to get rid of me, Cousin Frodo!' He frowned. He hadn't been able to argue Merry into letting him come along on the journey, but he was determined to keep trying.  
  
The Thain could no longer be put off, and Pippin was resigned to spending the month of August at home. He had the promise of dividing September between Hobbiton and Buckland, helping with the actual move to Crickhollow, the little house Merry had found for Frodo.  
  
Merry had spent the bulk of July in Buckland, though he had ridden to Hobbiton several times during the month. Now he and Pippin were riding back to Buckland, where Pippin would spend a brief visit before returning to Tuckborough. They had arranged by letter to meet Fredregar Bolger along the way. Fatty Bolger was on his way to spend August at Bag End, to take his turn on watch. At the moment Sam and Folco Boffin had the duty of watching Frodo. Even though Folco wasn't in on the secret, he and Frodo were great friends and Merry knew he'd stick close when Sam couldn't be there.  
  
The three conspirators, Merry, Pippin, and Fatty, met in a cave a couple of miles off the road. Merry had discovered this cave years ago, on one of his walking trips. Hobbits in their "tweens", the irresponsible twenties before coming of age at thirty-three, were encouraged by their elders to expend their considerable energy in long walks and rides and visiting unsuspecting relatives. Merry had taken advantage of this custom and knew great chunks of the territory between Buckland and Michel Delving as a result.  
  
'Keep your voice down,' Merry hissed.  
  
Fatty looked at him in surprise. 'There's no one within ten miles of here!' he protested.  
  
'Gandalf told Frodo that the Enemy has spies everywhere, even birds and things,' Pippin said. 'We can't be too careful.'  
  
Fatty shot him a condescending look. 'You've been listening to too many nursery tales, cousin,' he said.  
  
Pippin bridled but Merry put a hand on each of his cousins to stop the argument before it began.  
  
'Pippin's right,' he said. 'We can't be too careful.' He dropped his own voice to a near whisper. 'It's getting close, very close,' he said. 'I think we're still all right for August, but it's coming, probably some time in September.'  
  
'Before the move, you think?' Fatty asked.  
  
Merry hesitated. 'If Cousin Frodo wanted to slip away without notice, I think he'd wait until the move; there'd be no speculation that way. He leaves Hobbiton to go to Crickhollow, it's a long way, not convenient for visiting, he disappears into Buckland and no one thinks twice about it.'  
  
'What about the Bucklanders?' Pippin asked.  
  
Merry grinned, 'Ah, but they're a queer lot, anyhow, no telling what they might do!' He imitated a gaffer sitting over a pint. 'If that there Frodo Baggins is foolish enough to leave the sensible folk at Hobbiton and move back into the wilds of Buckland, well, he ought to expect trouble.' The three laughed, and Merry got down to business again.  
  
'Now, Pippin, you're going to the Smials, but my mother will be sending along an invitation to her brother the Thain at the end of August, asking that you come for her birthday. Hopefully a plea from his own sister will cause him to shake you loose.'  
  
He turned to Fatty. 'You can stay at Bag End for the whole month?'  
  
'Yes, and into September,' Fatty answered. 'My parents already know I'm helping with the move.'  
  
'Right,' Merry nodded. 'I'll be in Buckland much of the month, getting things ready.' At Pippin's questioning gaze, he said, 'This is no hobbit walking party we're preparing for, cousin, but a long journey into the unknown. We have to be ready for every contingency we can think of, and some we can't even imagine yet.'  
  
Fatty gave a shudder. 'I'm glad it's you going off with Frodo and not me,' he said.  
  
Merry reached over to tousle his head, 'You're such a homebody, Fatty,' he teased. 'Good to know somebody will stay behind to have the tea hot when we get back.' Fredregar grabbed his arm, pulled him onto the damp ground of the cave floor, and they had a short tussle before breaking apart with a laugh.  
  
'I wish I could go,' Pippin said wistfully.  
  
'We've been through all this before,' Merry said, not without sympathy. 'If you were of age there would be no problem, but you're only twenty-eight, Pippin. You're not old enough to go off without your father's leave, and you're too old to run away from home.'  
  
Pippin sighed. 'D'you think a dragon or troll would be any worse than my father?'  
  
Merry and Fatty laughed, and the latter said, 'Ah, well, cousin, if you all go off and leave me, who would I have to talk to?'  
  
'It's never stopped you talking before!' Pippin returned acidly.  
  
Merry laughed, then sobered and looked from one cousin to another. 'So. Are we clear on everything?' There seemed to be nothing more to discuss, and the cousins took their leave of one another, Fatty turning his pony towards Hobbiton and the other two heading in the opposite direction.  
  
'Why are we going this way?' Pippin asked.  
  
Merry grinned. 'Short cut. I found this little path the last time I was here. It'll cut ten miles off the journey to Buckland; instead of having to double back to get to the road.'  
  
'Short cuts make long delays,' Pippin quoted the old saw.  
  
'Not in this case, cousin,' Merry said confidently. 'I know this area like the back of my hand.'  
  
They had travelled for about half an hour when Pippin wrinkled his nose. 'What's that smell?'  
  
Merry pulled up Bright Nose. 'The path goes through a bog before it gets back to the road,' he said. 'We'll have to go a little slower here. As soon as we see the warning flags we'll turn aside to skirt the dangerous section, then back on the path and it's not much farther to the road from there.'  
  
'A bog!' Pippin didn't like the sounds of this.  
  
Merry smiled. 'It's been marked the usual way, just look for stakes with fabric fluttering from the top.' He sobered. 'Look sharp. If we can smell the bog, we must be close already.'  
  
He spoke to Bright Nose, and the pony walked ahead again. The grey pony followed unwillingly, tossing his head. He would go quietly enough by another pony's side, but he did not like to see another pony ahead of him. Pippin stroked his neck even as he kept his other hand firm on the reins. 'Steady, lad, with a bog around this is no time for a race.' The pony decided to argue, and Pippin pulled him to a stop. 'None of that, now,' he said sternly. The pony tossed his head and snorted, and Pippin answered, 'We're not going anywhere until you settle down.'  
  
Merry turned in the saddle to see why Pippin had stopped. 'Are you all right, cousin?' he called.  
  
'Fine!' Pippin called back. 'We're just having a little discussion; we'll be right along!'  
  
'Well, don't take too long about it!' Merry said. 'We--' At that moment his pony half reared and took a great leap. Merry, turned in the saddle, had no hopes of keeping his seat, and Pippin, for the first time he could remember, saw his cousin fall from a pony.  
  
As he watched, horrified, the chestnut pony sank to his belly in sticky black mud, plunging and struggling. Somehow he pulled himself to firmer ground, climbed out of the bog and stood trembling, legs black with slime.  
  
'Merry!' Pippin shouted.  
  
'Stay back, Pippin!' Merry called desperately. His fall had thrown him deep into the mire; he had already sunk past his waist and his struggles only caused him to sink faster.  
  
'Hold still, Merry, I've got a rope,' Pippin yelled. He jumped from the grey pony's back to dig frantically in his saddle bag for Sam's rope. When he turned back the bog had taken his cousin to the neck, only his head and one arm were showing.  
  
Pippin threw out the rope, and Merry grabbed for it, but the effort thrust his head beneath the bog and all Pippin could see was the desperate hand.  
  
Working quickly, he tied his end of the rope to the grey pony's saddle, pulled the other end of the rope back from the bog, made a firm loop about his waist. 'Stand, lad,' he commanded the grey pony. 'Stand fast, just like I've taught you.' He turned to dive into the bog.  
  
He managed to swim along the surface towards the fingers that still reached to the sky, and just as they disappeared he was close enough to grab at the arm he knew must be below. He got one hand on the slippery arm and the other hand found Merry's head and took firm purchase in his hair. He raised his head above the mire to shout to the pony, which was watching him from its turned-back head.  
  
'Walk on, lad!' he gasped. The grey pony nodded, began to walk away from the bog. He hesitated when the rope grew taut. 'Walk on!' Pippin shouted again, and the pony complied, pulling them steadily from the sucking grip of the bog. When they were free, on solid ground at last, Pippin gasped, 'Whoa!' and the grey pony stopped.  
  
Pippin turned to his cousin. 'Merry!' he said urgently. He shook the slimy black shoulder. 'Merry, wake up!'  
  
Merry's eyes opened, white in his black face. 'What...?' he said groggily. 'How?'  
  
Pippin hugged him close. 'We got you out,' he sobbed. 'We got you out of there.' Both of them were covered with stinking slime, limp, exhausted from the struggle.  
  
Merry's filthy hand reached up to stroke Pippin's curls reassuringly. 'It's all right, Pip,' he said. 'You did a fine job.'  
  
'I thought I'd lost you!' Pippin gulped.  
  
Merry grinned. 'I'm harder to lose than you think!' He struggled to his feet. 'Come on,' he said. 'There's a farm near here where we can get cleaned up. We need to tell the farmer that the bog's swallowed up his warning markers.' He reached down a hand to help Pippin up.  
  
'Thanks,' Pippin said. He took the rope from around his waist and began to coil it. He'd hang it on the saddle until he could wash out the muck.  
  
'When did you start carrying rope around with you?' Merry asked. 'That was good thinking, cousin.' He was silent for a moment, and Pippin could see he was thinking deeply while gazing at the rope.  
  
Merry looked up again, meeting Pippin's eyes. 'I think you might be a handy fellow to have on a walking party,' he said softly.  
  
Pippin took a great breath and stared. Merry nodded. Pippin let the breath out in a great burst, Merry grinned and clapped him on the shoulder, and the two turned to their ponies and mounted, to ride in a wide circle around the bog, towards the neighboring farm. 


	5. Slip Stitch

5. Slip Stitch  
  
The Great Smials in August seemed stuffier and dustier than ever. Pippin was glad to see his mother, of course, and his sisters came out of their self-absorption long enough to greet him warmly. The Thain, no doubt, was delighted to have his son under his thumb once again and thought of many tasks to keep Pippin busy. It passed the time, at least.  
  
He answered casually when his father asked about the pony, handing back the change. His father didn't quibble at the price he'd paid, and Pippin was glad to let the matter drop. The less notice his father took of the grey pony, the better.  
  
Pippin spent what time he could with the grey pony, but not enough to bring the beast to his father's notice. He'd be twenty times a fool to allow his father a hostage for his good behaviour again.  
  
He was surprised when Merry showed up in the middle of the month for a visit. Merry greeted him cheerfully, saying, 'I hadn't heard any explosions coming out of Tookland so I thought I'd stop by and see if you're all right.'  
  
'I'm fine, why shouldn't I be?'  
  
'You're in Tuckborough,' Merry answered. 'That's enough.'  
  
The Thain was in an expansive mood that evening, welcoming Merry jovially and asking after his mother Esmeralda, the Thain's sister. Merry answered politely, and the Thain went on to other topics.  
  
Halfway through the fine dinner, he turned to his son. 'Well, Peregrin, it seems you've done something right for a change.'  
  
Pippin stiffened. 'Yes, Sir?' he asked.  
  
'I went out and took a look at that grey pony of yours. He's worth twice what you paid for him! You got a good bargain, lad. I'm sure he'll turn us a tidy profit at the pony sale in September.'  
  
Merry saw the hastily concealed shock on Pippin's face before his cousin looked down at his plate to spear several pieces of meat on his fork.  
  
Pippin's mother Eglantine had caught that flash of distress as well. 'Paladin?' she said, putting her hand on her husband's arm. He turned to her in an unusually good humour. She thought twice about what she had intended to say; her son would only suffer all the more if she tried to interfere. 'Would you like another glass of ale, dear?' she said, while her glance went down the table to rest on her son. He nodded, understanding, and her heart ached for him. She determined she'd persuade her husband to send him off to Buckland with their nephew Merry, when he left.  
  
***  
  
Merry found Pippin in the stables, later, feeding carrots, freshly pilfered from the kitchen garden, to the grey pony. He stood for awhile in silent commiseration, then a sudden thought struck him and he turned to his cousin.  
  
'That's why you never named him,' Merry breathed.  
  
Pippin nodded, holding out another piece of carrot. 'He was never mine, to begin with.' He looked up suddenly. 'Merry, could you buy him?'  
  
Merry was thunderstruck. For a wild moment he considered the idea, then shook his head. 'I'm sorry, Pippin. You paid three gold coins for him? And your father expects to turn a profit?' Pippin nodded silently. Merry hated to say it, but he continued, 'I just don't have that kind of money. And my parents, knowing I have Bright Nose, would not understand my wanting to buy another pony.'  
  
Pippin sighed and turned back to the pony. 'I know,' he said. 'I shouldn't even have said anything. I'm sorry.'  
  
Merry wanted to ask him what he was apologising for, but he let the matter drop. He was sorry, too.  
  
***  
  
Merry sent off a letter to Buckland, describing the mess. Perhaps his parents might decide to buy the pony anyway, to add to the fine stables at Brandy Hall.  
  
Ten days passed, and though it had seemed as if the heat of August would last forever, the nights suddenly became cooler and a hint of autumn crispness stole into the evening air.  
  
'It is almost September already,' Merry said. 'I've got to be getting back to Buckland, then it'll be off to Hobbiton to help Frodo move.'  
  
'I thought your mother was going to invite me for her birthday,' Pippin said.  
  
'I'm expecting the letter any day now,' Merry reassured him.  
  
Merry received his father's reply in a batch of letters that came from Buckland, several addressed to the Thain. His father asked for more details about the pony. That was encouraging, it showed that he was actually considering his son's suggestion.  
  
That night at dinner, the Thain said, 'I've got good news!' All eyes turned to him, as he beamed at Pippin. 'No need to wait until the pony fair, I've found a buyer for your pony! And that saves us the transaction fee we'd have had to pay at the fair.' He chuckled. 'Good business, all around.'  
  
Pippin tried to smile. Seeing that his father expected an answer of him, he said, 'That is good news, Sir. I hope you got a fair profit.'  
  
His father chuckled again, 'O yes, I did!'  
  
Eglantine spoke up. 'Paladin, when does the sale take effect?'  
  
'The middle of September,' her husband answered. Turning back to his son, he said, 'So you can still use him until then. Might as well ride him to Buckland, your aunt's asked if you could visit on her birthday. My sister doesn't ask for much. I'm inclined to say yes.'  
  
'Thank you, Sir,' Pippin said tonelessly.  
  
That night Eglantine sought out her son in his room. 'I'm so sorry, Peregrin,' she said, tears in her eyes. 'I know how fond you were of that pony.'  
  
'It's all right, Mother,' he said spiritlessly. 'I never figured on keeping him anyway.'  
  
'You've worked so hard, training him...'  
  
'Well, I wanted to make sure his new owner would treat him well. If he's well trained he's less likely to suffer abuse, I hope.' Pippin answered. They were silent for a moment, then Pippin said, 'I guess this is goodbye, Mother. Merry and I will have to leave in the morning if we're to be in Buckland in time for Aunt Esmeralda's birthday party.'  
  
'Yes,' she answered, and pulled him into a hug. Pushing him back again, holding him at arm's length, she looked at this son of hers. 'You've been quite a scamp, over the years, but I think you're turning out quite well,' she said. 'I want you to know I'll always love you, no matter what.'  
  
'I love you too, Mother.' It struck him that she'd had a brother once, whose name was never mentioned in the family. This brother had run away from an overbearing and abusive father, it was said, and gone to sea, never to return. As he met his mother's gaze, he realized that she half-expected him not to return from Buckland.  
  
'I'm not one to run away, Mother,' he said, stung.  
  
'I know, lad,' she answered. 'We all make hard choices. You have honoured and respected your father even when he has had no right to it. If someday, I hear that you've decided not to come back to Tuckborough, I will understand. And know,' she repeated, 'that you will always have my love. Always.' She drew him into a fierce hug, released him abruptly, and left the room.  
  
***  
  
Since there was no longer any need to be on his best behaviour, Pippin and Merry decided to have a bit of fun the next morning before leaving. First off, Pippin stole into old Uncle Ferdinand's room while the fat old hobbit was snoozing after breakfast, and lightly lifted the elaborately carved wooden teeth that reposed in a glass by the easy chair.  
  
Merry met him in the hallway, and they made their way to the kitchens, trying not to laugh. Pippin stopped at the kitchen door, saying, 'I'll get the ponies saddled, then, and meet you in the yard. You know they don't allow me in the kitchen anymore.'  
  
'No worries, cousin,' Merry said gaily. 'I'll just pick up a sack of bread and cheese for the journey and be right out.'  
  
Pippin heard him greeting the cooks as he turned away. Washing up was nearly finished, and soon the kitchen would be empty and silent, the stew for the midday meal already bubbling away, the bread cooling in the pantry, and nothing more needing done until an hour or so before the meal.  
  
Out in the yard, Merry joined him, sack in hand.  
  
Pippin eyed the angle of the sun. 'Are you sure you don't want to stay for luncheon and leave after?' he said.  
  
'Oh, no, we'd better leave right away,' Merry said. 'We want to get to Buckland in time for late supper, you know.'  
  
They waved farewell to the hobbits who'd come out to see them off. There would be no hugs; Paladin scorned public displays of affection, but Pippin shared a last special look with his mother before turning to the road.  
  
Merry set a fast pace, and they trotted through Tuckborough without speaking; in fact, they were halfway across Tookland before Pippin turned to him to say, 'Well?'  
  
Merry grinned. 'Uncle Ferdinand's teeth now safely repose at the bottom of the pickle barrel,' he said.  
  
'Excellent! I wonder how long it will be before they find them?' Pippin said.  
  
'I don't know, but he'll be tasting pickles for a long time after, I fear.' Merry answered.  
  
'Poor fellow,' Pippin shook his head.  
  
'I also...' Merry began, and stopped.  
  
'What?' Pippin inquired.  
  
'I put salt in all the sugar bowls, substituted talc for the saleratus, and switched all the labels on the spice jars!'  
  
Pippin whistled in admiration. 'You *have* been busy!' he said.  
  
Merry lowered his eyes modestly. 'All in a day's work,' he said. Then meeting Pippin's grin, he said, 'Come on! I'll race you to that little group of trees.'  
  
'You're on!' Pippin shouted, and they kicked their ponies into a glorious race. 


	6. Pick Up Stitches

6. Pick Up Stitches  
  
They were too late for late supper, but Esmeralda had tea served in the parlour and they made a jolly meal, Pippin and Merry trying to top each other's stories and the Master and Mistress enjoying the infusion of energy their presence always brought to the Hall.  
  
'I'm glad you made it in time for my birthday,' Esmeralda said at a break in the storytelling. 'When it got so late, I feared you might have been held up at the Smials.'  
  
The lads' eyes met and they broke out into a loud guffaw. Saradoc, eyes twinkling, said, 'I thought as much... just how long is it going to be, this time, until they allow you back in Tuckborough, Meriadoc?'  
  
Merry turned innocent eyes on his father. 'Me?'  
  
'Yes, you,' the Master said. 'You're supposed to influence this scalawag of a nephew, not the other way around!'  
  
'Ah, well,' broke in the Mistress. 'At least with you coming so late, the cousins won't need to check their beds for frogs. At least, not this night.'  
  
Pippin stared back at her, innocence writ large over his features, then as Merry turned away to pick up another cake from the tray, Pippin took something from his pocket to slip it down the back of his cousin's shirt.  
  
'Just a grasshopper,' he grinned at his aunt while Merry danced and swatted at his back. 'There were some lovely ones in the field where we stopped to eat our bread and cheese.'  
  
'No wrestling, Meriadoc,' the Mistress called sternly as Merry turned to Pippin. 'Not in the parlour, you know the rules.' She rose, and both lads came to attention.  
  
'Good night, my darlings,' she said, kissing each on the cheek in turn. 'I will see you at the birthday breakfast. Don't be late.'  
  
'We're going to celebrate the whole day through,' The Master added, his arm stealing around his wife's waist. 'After all, it's not every day the Mistress of Brandy Hall has a birthday!'  
  
'Thank goodness for that!' his wife answered, and with a general laugh, all sought their beds.  
  
***  
  
Esmeralda found her nephew feeding the grey pony pieces of apple in the quiet of the stables. At her step she saw him quickly wipe at his face with his shirt, but not before she'd seen the sheen of tears on his cheeks.  
  
'Peregrin...'  
  
He did not turn, but cut another piece from the apple to offer it to the pony. 'Good evening, Aunt.'  
  
'Why aren't you at the celebration?' she asked gently.  
  
'O, I was coming, in a minute,' he said. 'Just had a little private matter to discuss.'  
  
She stepped up to the pony, stroking the soft neck. 'Ponies can be good listeners,' she said. She turned to her nephew. 'Old Aunts can be good at listening, too,' she added softly.  
  
Pippin nodded, but kept his eyes on the task at hand. He'd built his walls up so thick and high, Esmeralda reflected. She remembered seeing the same hurt in her brother, at Peregrin's age. Her resolve strengthened. She would not see this curse passed on to yet another generation in her family.  
  
'Peregrin,' she began, 'Your father...'  
  
He turned to her suddenly, saying fiercely, 'Why does my father hate me so? What did I ever do to him? I try and I try and nothing I do is ever good enough...' tears threatened and he had to turn back to the pony to hide them, cleaning his knife and putting it away, then burying his fingers in the long, silky mane.  
  
'Your father doesn't hate you, Peregrin,' she said softly. 'He loves you very much.'  
  
'Sure wish he'd let me know about it, then,' came the muffled reply.  
  
'Do you want to know what you did to make him so angry for all these years?' she asked. He nodded, fingers busy working out imaginary tangles from the pony's mane, eyes busy on the task. 'You were born.'  
  
His shoulders stiffened, and she went on. 'Your mother was the first love he found in a long, bleak life of trying to please his own father.' Pippin didn't turn, but she could tell he was listening tensely. 'You made two mistakes, being born,' she continued. He gave a soft snort at the irony in her words. 'First off, you nearly killed your mother, and he's never forgiven you for that...'  
  
'No, I can see that could be a problem,' he muttered.  
  
'And second, your mother loves you.' He didn't understand, she saw, and Esmeralda chose her words carefully. 'My brother doesn't realize that when you have a child, the love is not divided, but multiplied. He sees any love your mother gives you, as love taken away from him. And he's too stubborn and mule-headed to let anyone explain to him otherwise.'  
  
Her nephew nodded, his fingers moving more slowly. Esmeralda said softly, 'Do not hate your father, Peregrin.'  
  
He met her eyes again, in shock. She read some guilt there as well, and shook her head with a sad smile. 'No, I know it is not easy, but he deserves more of your pity. Hate will only turn you cold and hard, like him, and I would not see you become like Paladin.'  
  
'Never...' he breathed.  
  
'He was a lot like you, when we were younger,' she mused. 'Until bitterness took him and he became cold and proud, like our own father.' She met his eye again. 'We have tried to be the parents you needed, your uncle and I,' she said urgently. 'Saradoc has loved you as his own son.'  
  
'I know,' he whispered.  
  
'We both love you, very much,' she said. 'There's a place for you here at Brandy Hall, whenever you choose to turn your face towards Buckland.'  
  
He nodded without speaking.  
  
'Peregrin,' she said, commanding his attention. He looked up at her, and she held his eyes with her own. 'Should you ever decide not to remain in Tuckborough, you have a home here.' It was important that he know that there was another option to leaving. She thought of Eglantine's brother, gone away to sea, lost forever to the ones who loved him, and spoke again. 'You will be as a son to us. Peregrin, promise me you'll remember this.'  
  
He turned back to the pony, saying in a low voice, 'I'll remember. I promise. I just have something I have to do, first,' and he raised his eyes again to hers, briefly, 'but I'll come home again.'  
  
She embraced him, and he returned the hug. 'You do that,' she whispered against his ear. 'Home will be waiting here for you.' Releasing him, she said, 'Now let's get back to the party, shall we?' With a sharp glance, she added '...or have you done something to the cake...?'  
  
He laughed, and shook his head. 'Would I do something to your birthday cake?' he demanded.  
  
'Scamp,' she said softly, 'Such things have been known to happen...' Laughing, they joined arms and walked back to the Hall. 


	7. Fasten Offf

Chapter 7. Fastening Off  
  
The day before mid-September, Esmeralda found her scamp of a nephew in the stables, saddling the grey pony. Her eyebrow raised at sight of the saddlebags.  
  
'And where are you going, this fine day? Not just a ride, I see,' she said.  
  
'The sale of the pony takes effect tomorrow,' Pippin answered. 'I have to get him back to Tuckborough today. I was just coming in to take my leave...'  
  
He felt his aunt's hand on his arm. 'I didn't want to say anything sooner,' she said softly. 'I wanted to wait until the bill of sale arrived safely; you never know when the Thain's going to change his mind...'  
  
He looked at her, puzzled. 'I have no idea what you are talking about, Aunt,' he said slowly, 'Meaning no disrespect, of course.'  
  
She laughed. 'Of course not!' There was a twinkle in the eyes that met Pippin's. 'It's safe to tell you, now that the bill of sale has arrived from the Great Smials this morning.' He waited. 'I am the one who's bought this pony off my brother, and for a fair profit, too, not a silver penny more.'  
  
Pippin's eyes widened, and his aunt nodded. 'Yes, lad, and he'll be mine until you come of age. He'll never be sold out from under you again.' She half expected him to throw his arms about her as he had when younger, but he caught himself, stood tall as he could, and nodded properly. Ah, lads do grow up, indeed they do.  
  
'What shall we call this fine pony? Don't you think he ought to have a name?'  
  
Pippin turned back to survey the grey pony as if seeing him for the first time. After a long pause for thought, he said, 'You ought to name him "Socks".'  
  
'Socks?' his aunt said in astonishment. She turned to make her own survey. The pony was dapple grey from head to tail, with no distinguishing markings at all, certainly no white socks. She could see him being named "Smoke" or "Cloud"... but Socks?  
  
Pippin met her gaze, mischief dancing in his eye, but a dare lurked there as well. 'Yes,' he answered slowly. 'Don't you think the name fits him well? You ought to call him "Socks"...'  
  
'Because he doesn't have any!' aunt and nephew finished together, and burst out laughing. She gave him a quick hug, holding his arms a little longer as she put him away again, to take in his smile. It was good to see him smiling again.  
  
The lilt of Tookland was strong in her voice as she said, 'So where are you going on *our* pony on this fine day, I'm asking?'  
  
He smiled at his aunt. 'I'm going for a ride,' he said. 'Would you like to come along?'  
  
'I thought you'd never ask!' she replied.  
  
***  
  
While Pippin was grooming the grey pony after his ride with Esmeralda, he heard lowered voices in the next stall, and something made him stop to listen.  
  
'...I can't explain,' Merry was saying. 'I just want your word that if anything happens to me, you'll take care of Bright Nose until I get back.'  
  
'You're going to Hobbiton to help cousin Frodo move! What could happen?' Berilac said.  
  
Merry laughed. 'Anything could happen,' he said. 'You know how old cousin Bilbo was always going on and on...'  
  
Berilac broke in, '...you mean the road goes on and on...'  
  
'No, I meant cousin Bilbo!'  
  
Berilac laughed. 'He never stopped talking.' Then he sobered. 'Are you trying to tell me, you're planning an adventure, to go see Bilbo or something like that?'  
  
'It might be something like that,' Merry said, dropping his voice still lower.  
  
'I want to come, too!'  
  
'Now, cousin, what would the elves do if half the Hall descended upon them at once? They might start shooting arrows or something, thinking themselves invaded.' Berilac protested, and Merry continued, 'Besides, I need you to stay and take care of my parents for me, and Bright Nose, until I return.' Berilac said something else Pippin didn't catch, but Merry was insistent. 'Your word, Berilac? I know once you give it I can rest easy.'  
  
'All right,' Berilac said. 'But you've got to promise to take me with you next time.'  
  
'That's a promise,' Merry said.  
  
***The End*** 


End file.
